


the fantasies of leaving

by crownsandbirds



Series: #TeamIronMan [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Daddy Issues, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Marriage Proposal, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Break Up, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Unhealthy Relationships, a lot of those, it stretches through the movies mostly, mild gaslighting, no happy ending, oh my god this is so sad, why did i do this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: "Tony is alone in the Tower. He asks FRIDAY to please call Captain Steve Rogers. His artificial heart pulses in a black hole of nothing."Tony and Steve deserve each other, which is a testament to how fucked up they both are.





	the fantasies of leaving

**Author's Note:**

> "we know that it’s over  
> in the morning, you'll be dancing with all the heartache  
> and the treason, the fantasies of leaving."
> 
> (sober-lorde)

Ever since he was a child, Tony has liked to keep count of things. How many experiments he managed to successfully carry out, how many tools he had on his desk, how many erasers he lost throughout the school year, how many meals he forced himself to skip, how many times his father raised his hand without actually hitting him (a depressingly small amount), etc. 

He never lost that habit - it's calming and reassuring and one of the things that caused his psychiatrist to neutrally explain to him that he had OCD. He certainly hasn't lost it now, alone in his office, a simple journal in front of him, his desk completely empty for once. 

He usually isn't alone. He lives with his boyfriend - he  _ shouldn't _ be alone. But he is. 

A deep breath, a shuddering breath. He told himself he wasn't going to cry, and, according to his careful counting, he has managed to control himself quite well these past two weeks. He kept his tears from coming out at least ten out of twelve times this week. He has only skipped four meals in seven days. He finished all the projects he started a few months ago. He's doing great.

He could be worse. He  _ should _ be worse, really. He owns a gorgeous building, an even more beautiful laboratory, his physical health isn't spiralling down to dangerous levels, his mental health - well, it has never been pristine and if it's slightly worse now it's probably because he hasn't been sleeping much, it's all easily fixable. He has a  _ boyfriend.  _ Someone who is willing to live with him and spend time with him and fuck him and  _ touch _ him. 

_ I don't deserve any of this _ . The certainty of that fact startles the anger he is feeling right now and subdues it a bit, exchanging it for a sensation Tony is far more used to. 

He steals a glance at the closed door of his - their - living quarters and very nearly chokes with guilt.

Months ago, he had tried to keep count of the number of arguments he and Steve had. That had proven itself tiring.

_ Arguments?  _ he thinks bitterly.  _ They're hardly arguments. _

For someone who talked as much as Tony did, he could prove himself incredibly quiet whenever they fought. It was hard to make any sort of point when he was trying not to break down crying.

So, he started counting the number of times Steve yelled at him. Seven times just this past week. Then, taking from that, the number of times he went to bed without apologies from either of them. Two. The number of times he went to bed after apologizing - sometimes he wasn't even sure what he was saying sorry for. Two. The number of times he apologized after Steve fucked all the rationality out of his mind. Three.

In a separate corner of his mind, he keeps track of the nights in which Steve walked out on him. He considers those to be entirely different situations. There's yelling, yes, and so many low blows - Steve can get so creative when it comes to either comparing him to Howard or fiercely reminding him of all of his past mistakes in sharp detail. Tony would find it cowardly and mean if it weren't true. If he didn't deserve it. He is perfectly aware Steve is too fair to ever do that to anyone who doesn't deserve it. As it is, he just bows his head and listens to it and grabs at his desk so he won't run after his boyfriend when he slams the door behind himself. 

He doesn't really want to remember the number of that particular counting.

The first few times, Friday frantically asked Tony if she should lock the doors and alert someone. Now, she just stays quiet. The entire building stays quiet other than the soft rumbling and humming of top-level technology. It's comforting. Familiar. This is definitely not the first night he's spent alone with nothing but his experiments and machines to keep him company. 

_ So why does it hurt so much? _

Guilt. The lack of human presence where it was supposed to be constant. 

It's saturday night and Tony had  _ such a long week _ , heaven help him, he wants to be in the couch eating pizza, curled up against his boyfriend. He doesn't want to be sitting by himself on an empty desk staring at a blank journal page trying not to cry and thinking about everything he wanted to say and all the ways he came up short in all the areas of his life.

He gets sharply reminded of his father grabbing at his chin painfully,  _ don't you dare cry. Not in front of people. If you want to cry, you do it by yourself, alone.  _

When the tears start coming down, they come with his father's voice in his mind and the sight of Steve walking out on him burned on his closed eyelids. He does it quietly, very quietly, just buries his face in his arms and tries not to sob or whimper.

He doesn't hear it when Steve comes back. He startles when he feels a strong, very familiar hand on the small of his back - he instinctively straightens up, takes a shuddering breath. 

"Shhh," Steve shushes him, bows down to presses a kiss on the top of his head. "It's okay. It's just me." 

Tony wishes he didn't feel so fucking  _ reassured _ at that, wishes it wasn't so easy to lean back on Steve, to let him wipe gently with his thumb the stray tears still running down his face. If he tries to say anything he'll start sobbing again, so he doesn't. 

"C'mere. Get up, doll," Steve orders softly, manhandles him to sit on top of his desk, makes a place for himself between his open legs. Tony can't bring himself to look at him, doesn't want to, and is relieved when Steve hugs him and he can just bury his face on his shoulder. 

Steve chuckles with affection and a tiny bit of condescension. "Are you done being silly yet?"

Tony nods silently. Steve pinches him on the side. "Use your words, beautiful, talk to me." 

"Yes, sir," he mumbles, takes a sharp breath when Steve tightens his arms around him. 

"Don't worry about anything, dear. You know I can't stay mad at you."

Tony figures he doesn't  _ have _ enough mental energy to say anything unless he's prompted to. He resists a bit when Steve pries his arms off of him, only because he doesn't want to face him right now; still, he obediently raises his head when hands cup his cheeks to have him look up. 

"Look at you," Steve says, amused and fond, his thumbs tracing the dark circles under his eyes. "Such pretty eyes. I'm so weak for them.  _ How _ could I stay mad at you?"

Tony hates the way he blushes immediately. 

"You look so tired, doll. It breaks my heart."

Steve sounds so sincere, so loving, so hurt at whatever Tony did to drive him to walk out on him again, that Tony's eyes fill with tears. He tries to compare this to a few hours before, when he was being yelled at and pushed and shoved, but this reality is far too strong and his senses are somewhat overwhelmed and he's just. So tired. He just wants things to be okay. 

He starts crying again, and clutches at Steve's shirt. He is being shushed again, and held so closely, and he realizes he can't back out of this. He would never get anything like it anywhere else. 

"It's okay, Tony. We should sleep. Okay? Answer me, dearest."

He manages to choke out a "Please", and he allows himself to be carried to bed.

 

-

 

Their breakup is inevitable and predictable and a goddamn disaster. Everyone saw it coming, which doesn’t change just how awful it is. 

Tony is fidgety. He’s anxious and exhausted and unable to sit still - not much of a change compared to how this relationship has made him feel in the last months. “I talk to my AIs more than I talk to you,” he says, far quieter than he meant it to sound when he first went over the mental script he came up with for the occasion. 

Steve narrows his eyes at the sight of Tony nervously grabbing at the hem of the shirt he’s wearing. He crosses his arms over his chest, one more barrier between them. “Which is no surprise  _ at all _ since I have to physically drag you out of your lab for you to talk to  _ anyone _ , let alone to me.” 

Tony is so tired. They’re so far apart. When they first started dating, they were unable to spend more than five minutes without touching each other. “Look, Steve, I don’t want to fight. I just -” 

Wrong thing to say. No surprise there - Tony  _ never _ knows the right thing to say.

“You don’t want to fight, huh? Of course you don’t. You never want to, Tony. When you’re not mindlessly saying ‘yes’ to anything I say, you’re either ignoring me or lying to my face.”

“I thought you liked it when I  _ mindlessly said yes. _ ” 

The two of them stop for a second. The reference is clear. It’s also a damn low-blow but - Tony is very tired. 

Their sex life isn’t the problem. Far from it, actually. For some godforsaken reason, even in the nights of their worst arguments, even during those weeks when they couldn’t  _ stand  _ the sight of each other, the sex was, more often than not, mind-blowing. Maybe because of how long they’ve been together, maybe because of how desperate for affection and touch-starved they are as a rule. Maybe because they’re both very lonely people. Maybe because Tony loves Steve the best when he’s kissing him and not saying hurtful things. 

He loves Steve. He does. But even his legendary lack of self-respect has its limits. He thinks Rhodey might literally punch some sense into him if he doesn’t do this.

Tony has started to consider the idea. It might hurt less than the look on Steve’s face right now.

“I like - love you like you were, Tony,” Steve is saying while he lets his arms dangle limply at his sides. “You were so arrogant and brilliant - you insulted me so thoroughly when we first met. You used to be…  _ so much. _ ”

Listening to that hurts so badly that Tony has to physically stop his feet from taking him over to Steve and falling into his arms in search of some comfort. Because it’s true. All of those things are. Tony was  _ so much _ , and now he barely feels like a person. “Rich hearing that from someone who is the reason why I’m not like that anymore. You walked out on me so much FRIDAY wanted to create a safety protocol.”

“Do you seriously ask your AIs to fix every single issue you have? Because that might be the reason why your communication skills are those of an autistic five-year-old.”

“ _ I am autistic,  _ Steve! That’s  _ not  _ what’s wrong here! We have  _ issues _ , and you never knew how to deal with a single one of them!”

“Because you  _ refuse  _ to talk to your  _ goddamn fianceé _ !  _ You _ were the one who gave me this ring and you’d rather ask for a  _ robot  _ to make a security protocol against me than to  _ talk  _ to me!”

Tony takes a shuddering breath. He’s going to cry, if this continues. He’s going to break down and fall to the floor and Steve will inevitably catch him and hug him and shush him in that very particular comforting way and it’ll all go exactly as it’s happened before.

“Look, this isn’t working.” underneath all the money and fancy gadgets, Tony’s essentially a mechanic. He’s used to taking broken things and fixing. He lives for that, delights in doing so. But he’s also smart enough to know that some things just can’t be fixed. “We’re two grown men. We know we can’t do this anymore.” 

Tony is begging for the two of them to stop hurting each other. Steve must notice it in his eyes, the pleading, because he doesn’t protest. He silently walks up to Tony, takes off his engagement ring from the chain around his neck where he kept it alongside his dog tags, near his heart. His movements are sad and graceful as he takes Tony’s wrist, coaxes his hand open and drops the ring on his palm.

Tony tears up as Steve places a hand on his nape and brings him close for one last forehead kiss, his ever-favorite affectionate gesture since they first started dating.

“Goodbye, Tony,” he says quietly. His warm palm slides down to Tony’s shoulder for a second before he leaves, walking out the automatic glass doors. 

Tony’s legs give out under him almost immediately. He clutches the golden band in his fist -  _ isn’t it beautiful, Steve? It matches your eyes _ \- his grip so tight the stone bites into his palm.

He’s crying so hard he nearly misses it when FRIDAY asks him, “Boss, do you want me to call Ms. Potts?”

Tony scoffs sadly. He can’t imagine how awful he would feel at the sight of Pepper right now, the other embodiment of just how terrible he is at maintaining meaningful romantic connections. What he  _ wants _ is for FRIDAY to call Steve back to him so Tony can beg him for forgiveness and they can kiss and make love and keep pretending everything’s alright. 

“No. Call - call Rhodey, please,” he manages to choke out between sobs. 

“Will do, sir,” his baby girl answers gently before going silent again, probably searching for Rhodey across the Tower. 

Tony takes off his own engagement ring with trembling fingers, places it alongside Steve’s on top of one of the empty work stations. It’s a gorgeous pair, beautiful to look at, just like their owners used to be. He remembers going shopping online for them, Rhodey and Pepper excitedly giving him their opinions, JARVIS chirping with ideas and saving their favorites to be chosen between later. He remembers  _ asking,  _ no fancy, grand gestures, just the two of them on their bed, during one of the sweet morning-afters Tony was once used to.

When Rhodey arrives, he looks at his best friend, then at the lonely pair of rings on top of the station, and then he’s rushing to Tony and holding him tightly against himself.

It’s the warmest hug Tony has received in months. The sensation of Rhodey’s arms around him is as familiar as breathing. He buries his face in his neck and cries.

 

-

 

Tony doesn’t want to see Steve again. But the Sokovia Accords are here and the UN meeting is soon and he has to. So he does. And it’s a mistake in every conceivable way.

They manage about five minutes of civility before resorting to angry stares and poorly concealed insults. And the  _ pettiness _ . The atmosphere in the room is so absurdly heavy Tony has to keep his hands busy in order to distract himself so he won’t run away to his lab and leave this mess for other people to deal with. 

It must be painfully obvious they’re exes. Tony hates the feeling of knowing that everyone must be aware of their personal lives.

And still,  _ still,  _ he knows Steve wants him. He keeps glancing back, that analyzing glint in his eyes - arguing was once their most common way of foreplay before one of them inevitably dragged the other to the nearest empty room. That before they made promises and wore rings and Tony exhausted himself out and Steve created barriers and they broke each other beyond repair.

It would be so easy to give in. He knows Steve will never agree to sign the Accords - the dickish stubbornness was one of the things they had in common. Tony might as well get a quick, good fuck before sending him off and getting ready to deal with the inevitable mess he knows is coming his way soon. 

He doesn't. He already has enough bad decisions on his shoulders to make him feel disgusting and terrible. He snarls some more, tries to be reasonable with the other Avengers, and tries not to sigh with too much relief when Steve leaves out of nowhere after getting a mysterious phone call. 

 

-

 

Steve walks out on him one more time. 

Siberia is very cold. Terribly cold. Tony thinks he might die here. 

_ Sometimes I want to punch you right in your perfect teeth _ , he remembers saying, a lifetime ago. His grasp on time isn't the most precise right now. 

_ He's my friend _ , Steve said.  _ I love him,  _ Tony heard. 

_ So was I,  _ Tony answered.  _ You loved me once,  _ he'd meant. 

He watches Steve and Bucky Barnes as they leave him alone, his heart shattered in a thousand pieces. 

 

-

 

The Tower is very quiet. 

Tony touches his ring finger with his thumb. It's once more relieved of a wedding promise. He already talked to Pepper - it was a calm, gentle,  _ painful _ conversation. He left it feeling both loved and the loneliest he's ever been. 

_ Pepper, I can't do this to you. It's not fair,  _ he said.  _ I can't make a family, not the way I am right now.  _

She started crying as soon as he himself did. It felt strangely comforting, to be with someone who knew him so well and was so intimately in touch with his feelings.  _ Tony, I'm sorry. I can't help you. Not this time. I'm too - I'm broken. It's too much. You need something I can't give you now.  _

He took her face between his hands. She lost so many people too. They both lost so much.  _ It's okay, I promise. We both need time. We need to heal - somehow. We'll go back to each other someday. We'll get married and we'll have Morgan and things will work out. You're not getting rid of me so easily.  _

She kept both rings. Tony knows she'll take good care of them. She's taking care of him right now, in the shape of the memories she left, the promises she made him. 

Tony still feels empty. 

He already cleaned the workstation he'd started building especially for Peter. Put away his file - the archive in which he saved all the future developments and plans for his suit, for the AI the kid had named Karen, all the protocols he would've had to set up for him after he became an official member of the Avengers. 

It took him days. He wanted to do it himself instead of just telling FRIDAY to get rid of everything - he figured Peter deserved at least that. He had an anxiety attack every time he so much as opened the file. When he was done with it all, he had a crying fit that lasted an entire day. 

Months after everything, he'd somehow managed to gather his wits together enough to go visit Aunt May. He braced himself for physical violence, accusations, yelling. He was prepared for those. When she opened the door, though, all she did was give him a strong, fierce hug and invite him over for dinner in a small voice. She ordered cheap Chinese takeout. They talked. 

"I told him not to follow me," he told her as they stood on the center of his empty bedroom. "I told him to go home."

She grasped Tony's shoulder and gave him the saddest smile he'd ever seen in his life. "It wouldn't have made a difference. At least he died doing what he believed in. He died with someone he cared about holding him. Someone who loved him."

As she held open the door for him when it was time to leave, Tony turned to her one last time. "I'm sorry I didn't do more." 

She shook her head. "Don't do that to yourself. It's hard enough living with the loss. It's impossible to live with the guilt too."

Tony is alone in the Tower. He asks FRIDAY to please call Captain Steve Rogers. His artificial heart pulses in a black hole of nothing. 

 

-

 

"What about Pepper?" Steve asks. 

His hands still fit well around Tony's hips. It still feels familiar. Tony hates how his body feels comforted in the most basic, human of ways by Steve's touch. 

He shakes his head, pushes him towards the bed. "She - I can't do this to her. She deserves better. Than this, than me."

"And I don't?" 

Steve flips them effortlessly, cages Tony on the bed with his arms. Tony hates how he shudders with pleasure - he notices how badly he'd missed this, the feeling of someone stronger than him, of a  _ man _ , holding him, and hates himself for it. 

"No." Tony fists Steve's hair. "We deserve each other right now."

Steve bites at his neck, leaves a painful mark - possessive, lonely, sad. "It's a testament to how fucked up we are." He lets out a depressing little chuckle and kisses the delicate skin over Tony's jugular. It makes him feel awfully vulnerable. 

Tony is sharply reminded of his Catholic mother filling his head with verses about penance and guilt and asking for forgiveness, of suffering for every misplaced thought and reckless action.  _ This _ , his fevered, exhausted brain reasons,  _ feels a lot like penance.  _ His hands shake where they grab at Steve's shoulders. 

"Hurry up," he snarls, because he's tired of thinking so much all the time. 

Steve pauses abruptly in his search for lube and condoms in the bedside drawer (once upon a time, they reached the intimacy and trust necessary to stop wearing condoms - that was years ago, and Tony isn't feeling that nostalgic). Tony knows exactly what he found. 

"Oh, why not?", he says with cruelty. "Let's break our own hearts a little more."

It slides smoothly into place around his finger. He can feel the cold of Steve's ring when he grabs his thigh to maneuver Tony into position and to brace himself before pushing in.

"Fuck me," Tony half-orders, half-pleads. "Show me you're alive."

Steve does. 

"It still matches your eyes," Tony chokes out between moans. 

A particularly sharp thrust makes him throw his head back and close his eyes. "Shut up."

Tony does. 

 

-

 

It's a quick filthy affair. Logically, Steve should leave. But they're older now, and tired. They take showers separately, and don't cuddle when they lay down again. They do lie on their sides, though, so they can face each other, a considerable space between them. 

Steve reaches out, places a careful hand on Tony's face. They both have yet to take their rings off, so Tony feels the metal against his cheek. Unconsciously, he nuzzles into Steve's palm. 

"You've always been so touch-starved," Steve whispers. It sounds so sad Tony closes his eyes for a moment. 

"Would you have asked him? For his hand?" Tony asks, because he genuinely wants to know. 

Steve flinches. "I - I did." He reaches inside his t-shirt, takes out a chain from which hang Sergeant Bucky Barnes' dog tags. "I was afraid of losing him again, so I did. I was going to buy rings later and all of that. We wanted to do it as soon as possible - we couldn't back in the 40s, we'd already wasted so much time. He joked about cutting his hair especially for the occasion, so he would have the same haircut he had back in the day. Sam was going to help us with the tuxes and all. It would be something small, intimate, just for us."

Tony takes the dog tags in his hands, analyzes them a bit before letting Steve hide them inside his t-shirt once more. 

"What about you?" Steve asks now. "Would you have adopted him? I heard about how you two were." 

Tony glances idly at the golden ring around his finger. "Yes. I - I'd talked to Pepper. It is possible. I thought it wasn't. It is, as long as his legal guardian agrees. We decided to wait until after he graduated from MIT. He could inherit SI. I was planning to take him abroad, show him the plans we have for expanding, introduce him to my R&D team - they would've loved him. Pepper would teach him how to run everything. I mentioned the idea to his aunt once - she was open to it, said it would give him so many opportunities - and a good father -"

Tony trails off.  _ My son, _ he thinks.  _ Oh, God, I'm so lonely.  _

Steve is twisting his chain around his fingers, eyes looking decades away.

It's not about the two of them.

It hasn't been in a long time.  

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> firstly; so i asked my dad who's a lawyer: if someone's parents die and they're raised by their aunt, is it possible for them to be adopted by someone else? and it is possible. the legal guardian just has to agree to it. so thats a thing. 
> 
> secondly; i'm sorry


End file.
